


Keep me as the apple of your eye; hide me in the shadow of your wings

by gnostic_heretic



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Centuries-Old Grudges, Complicated Relationships, Flashbacks, Gen, Internalized Transphobia, Jealousy, Personal Growth, Trans Male Character, hard feelings, idk what to tag it lads. take it as is. two people sit in a room and argue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-07 19:02:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17966237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gnostic_heretic/pseuds/gnostic_heretic
Summary: “Maybe it’s because you hardly know me at all.”Ouch. Truth hurts.In all the centuries he has known Belarus, this was probably the first real conversation they had.





	Keep me as the apple of your eye; hide me in the shadow of your wings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Antiaris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antiaris/gifts).



 

 

>  

_ The idols of the nations are silver and gold, made by human hands.  _

_ They have mouths, but cannot speak, eyes, but cannot see.  _

_ They have ears, but cannot hear, nor is there breath in their mouths.  _

> **_Psalm 135_ **

* * *

 

 

The present she brought along, to apologize for showing up so suddenly (or so she said), is Soplica, the cherry-flavored kind.

Feliks shrugs it off with a half-assed “thank you” and puts away the liquor in the kitchen pantry. It’s the first bottle of vodka to see his kitchen in a really long time: he tries to stay away from alcohol as much as he can these days, but then again, he tries to stay away from _Belarus_ as much as he can— so it’s no wonder she doesn’t know.

She’s probably the last person that Feliks ever expected to ring his bell, but then he thinks, it’s so much like her to show up unannounced, at almost-midnight, and make sarcastic little comments about the way he looks. As if she has given him _any time_ to throw on a robe and take off his face mask! _Outrageous_.

He can predict that this visit is not going to end well; in fact, he can predict what,  _who_  the subject of the conversation will be, too, with an amount of certainty.

Despite that, he makes his best effort to be polite. _Watch his manners_.

“Do you want some coffee?”

“You really think I’d want all that caffeine in the middle of the night?”

“If you were so concerned about pulling an all-nighter, I don’t understand why you didn’t come here earlier.” Two minutes, and she has already pissed him off— _it’s almost like, a magical power._ “Besides, I need some, just to stay up and listen to you. So... if you don’t mind.”

She nods silently, taking a brand-new flip phone out of the pocket of her hoodie.

* * *

 

It’s hard for Feliks to admit, but he’s always been jealous of Natalya, for one messed-up reason or another. He knows it’s not entirely rational, either, but it just makes it even harder to let go of it. She sits there at his table as if nothing ever happened between them.

 

Yes, technically, _nothing_ ever happened between them. No blown-out fights, no attempts to murder or poison him, not even centuries back, when she often got away with it and prized her intrigues as any woman at court would have flaunted a marvelous jewel.

But there’s always been some implicit distance that he wanted her to keep from him, and that he did his best to maintain.

Natalya was Tolys’ favorite, she had always been his favorite, even when she had nothing to offer but her beauty, even when she was nothing but a skinny teenager dressed with rags, and her silky silver hair hadn’t grown out yet.

She spent years wandering through barren, cold lands, keeping her hair short— she told them— “so that I would be mistaken for a boy, sir”——something about that phrase felt like a punch in the stomach. “It’s easier when people think of you as a boy.”

Feliks had laughed, and ordered the ladies-in-waiting that he had called from Tolys’ lands to wash her, and dress her up in the most beautiful gowns they could find.

 

Back then, he thought that his petty revenge had been his first mistake.

He made her beautiful, so of course Tolys had noticed her immediately.

He knew of the gazes he would throw at her, occasionally, but he tried not to mind.

_We are married_ , he told himself, _she can only be his mistress, if anything. Never his wife. Never his_ husband _._

He knew that Tolys was not the type to cheat— he was shy, reserved, and honest to a sickening degree (or so he thought, back then).

He knew that Natalya would probably be caught dead before she’d ever enter the bed of a man (unless it was a part of one of her plots to get rid of said man).

Yet her presence unnerved him. It unnerved him then, it unnerved him now.

 

_Maybe Tolys would rather have a perfect woman than a defective, broken man like me._

 

He gulps, wondering why those thoughts that he always tried so hard to hide, repress— the twisted and obvious thing he didn’t want to even _think_ was suddenly plaguing his heart again. _The emperor is naked_ ; and he’s vulnerable, and helpless, and suddenly a fool in a crowd of monsters.

* * *

 

Natalya sits at his table, her blonde hair falls on her shoulder in stark contrast with her black clothes.  
No brocade, silk or jewels: even like this, with dark bags under her eyes and a messy ponytail, she is undeniably gorgeous. Even then, when she showed up unannounced, she had been gorgeous.

How could he not notice? Of course he did.

Curse her, and curse her _charisma_ , if one could even call it that.

* * *

 

“I didn’t want to bother you. I came to talk about Tolya.”

_Tolya_. Hearing her use a nickname to call him, a nickname that he never knew about, makes him feel sick.

“What about him?”

“I’ve heard from my sister that you two have gotten back together.”

“Mhm. You heard right.”

He turns the other way to pour himself a cup of coffee, and to hide the smug smile that he can’t hold back. He wonders if Russia knows, too. _Good_.

“So how is it going?”

 

Feliks doesn’t want to tell her that it’s not easy. They’ve stumbled more than once on their past mistakes, and faults that neither one of them wants to be held accountable for.

_Quiet conversations only, an open heart, and no holding back_ : this was their agreement.

What they didn’t factor in, was that a quiet conversation can hurt more than a slap in the face— and there are times when Feliks feels like keeping an open heart is less like holding a door open, and more like cutting a new wound each day.

He wonder if Tolys feels the same.

But Natalya doesn’t need to know about that.

 

“It’s going amazing,” he says. He’s never been a good liar. “Better than we both expected.”

_That, at least, is true._

Natalya doesn’t even bother to look up from her phone.

“I’m glad for you both, then.”

“No, you are not.”

 

Finally, she is looking at him. She's looking at him the same way she did the first time: a cold and angry scowl, trying to make her heart look more hardened than it actually is. 

* * *

 

“If you are happy for me, then why did you come here to butt in? I don’t know what you want from me, but I don’t appreciate it.

“You’ve always been a bad omen, curse you! The last thing I needed is the reminder that he will never love me as much as he loves you. Even though you made him suffer just as much as I did.”

The words trickle down of his mouth, unstoppable as the tides of the ocean. He’s always been a bad liar, but the truth comes out easier than he expected. He snorts up the tears that threaten to fall down his cheeks.

“All because you have pretty eyes, and a pretty face. I’ve always hated that about you.”

“Do you think he only cared about my looks? I’m more than a pretty face, if you ask me. If you ask _him_. And you’re no better than those who always dismissed me, and died for it.”  Natalya’s words are a bitter threat, hot as fire.

Feliks swallows his coffee, and lets it all burn his throat.

“Besides, you speak as if I’ve never thought the same about you. You were always there, sitting up on your golden throne with your golden hair and golden crown. It was _your_ smile that he loved. I thought I could never stand a chance.”

“Well, you were wrong, Natalya.”

“So were you.”

* * *

 

_I’m an idiot._

 

Feliks regrets every single word he’s said, every single thing he has ever thought about her.

“Maybe we were both wrong, and we have never wanted to admit it.”

 

“Yeah, Poland, we are both fucking stupid. It’s useless to dwell on it, though.”

He sighs, and she looks at him. He could almost swear she’s smiling. He doesn’t know if he has ever seen Natalya smile.

“Let’s leave the past behind, shouldn’t we? I’m not a child anymore, and you’re not the shit-headed, self-centered spoiled brat you used to be.”

“Wow, that’s like, a little too brutally honest of you. Then again, I always thought you were a cunning bitch, and I wasn’t wrong.”

 

Natalya laughs, now, and her laughter is ugly and loud and obnoxious. Maybe this was the side of her that Tolys loved. Feliks understood that a little better, now.

 

“I can’t believe I thought this would be a good idea. To tell you the truth, I _did_ come to wish you guys well. But I’m not very good with words.”

“Thank you.” He stares at the coffee grounds sitting at the bottom of his mug. “To tell _you_ the truth, it’s harsh sometimes. I can tell that he misses you a lot. Sometimes I wonder if it isn’t actually you that he wants.”

“Do you think he never missed you, back when we were together? For being so narcissistic, I think you’re underestimating yourself a little, _Lord Polska_. Really. Do you have something to drink?”

Feliks is not sure what to say, or do. “I have some apple juice.”

She sneers at him, like he just told the unfunniest joke in the universe. “I brought you vodka, and I wouldn’t mind tasting a sip.”

“I think I’ll pass, though.”

“That’s fine. You can have your apple juice.”

He takes the bottle from the pantry, disappointed that he won’t get to recycle it as a present for any future Christmas.

The scent of cherry fills the room, it clouds the thoughts in his head.

Natalya drinks it all in one sip, and she asks for more.

* * *

 

“You know,” she says, and now it’s her low and warm voice that fills the room, “there were times when I thought the same. I wondered if it wasn’t you that he wanted, and not me.”

Feliks is speechless. She’s full of surprises, as always, and this is the last thing he expected to hear from her. Natalya waits for a reply that never comes; she waits a moment, but she has no intention to stop there.

“You could see it in his eyes sometimes. He still kept a picture of you, a really old one, it was all stained. Sometimes I caught him looking… sometimes he stood in front of the phone for hours. Sometimes he cried. I tried not to mind, though.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Are you stupid?”

Feliks chuckled. “We just established that we are both stupid, didn’t we?”

“Right.”

She takes another sip of cherry Soplica, and Feliks feels almost sorry for her.

_I’ve been like you, Natalya. Maybe we are more similar than we both thought._

“I’m telling you, sir, to let you know that I’m not here to steal your man. Far from it. I was the one who left him… but you already know that, don’t you.”

He nods, and she shakes her head.

“Besides, I’m seeing someone else now. I just wanted to make sure… to make sure that you will keep an eye on him. And that you will treat him well.”

“Well, I am trying my best…”

“Your _best_ won’t be enough.”

“ _Wow_ , thanks for believing in me. What was that about wishing us well?”

She pulls him closer, like a child who is about to tell her best friend a secret— but they're hundreds of years old, and they've never been _friends_.

“I’m just saying, Poland. _Feliks_. That he is hurting, and sometimes he will try to hide it, he will try to sweep it under the rug. Always keep an eye on him, or he will do crazy things. You’re not the one who found him lying in a pool of blood, with his chest slashed open. You don’t know what he can do.”

He knows what she’s talking about, and the thought makes a cold shiver run down his spine.

“Roger that. I’ll do more than my best.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear.”

She really is smiling down now, staring intently at the bottom of her empty glass.

 

“Natalya.”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for taking care of him. You know. When I was not there.”

She pours herself another glass of vodka and scoffs at him. “No big deal, but it’s your turn now.”

“I know.”

“If you mess it up, I’ll kill you.”

Feliks wants to laugh, and tell her that even if she tried, she wouldn’t succeed any more than anyone else had; instead, he waves his hand and sits back in his chair. “I know”, he says, and that should be enough.

* * *

 

When he takes her to the door, it’s almost half past two.

She asks him not to tell anything to Tolys (or, in her words, to _Tolya_ ) and he promises he won’t.

He asks her if she wants to sleep on the couch; she declines, explaining that someone is waiting for her in a van that she rented.

“I hope you’re not the one driving, after all that you drank tonight.”

“I’m not, just so you know.” She adjusts her ponytail, tying it a little tighter. “I told you. I’m not alone.”

He wonders if her new partner is the one who will drive. Feliks is overcome with petty curiosity.

“So who is it that you’re seeing, anyway?”

Natalya glares at him. “It’s none of your business.”

“Are they waiting for you… in the van?”

“Yeah.”

“I never expected you to be the type of person to go on a romantic road trip.”

“Maybe it’s because you hardly know me at all.”

_Ouch. Truth hurts._

In all the centuries he has known Belarus, this was probably the first real conversation they had.

“Well, whoever it is that you’re dating, not everyone would be so happy to make a stop at the house of your ex-boyfriend’s ex-husband on a romantic road trip. They must love you very much.”

She turns back to look at him, just to give him a puzzled look. “What are you trying to say?”

“Nothing, nothing. I guess you could say I’m also wishing you well, Natalya.”

“Thank you.”

 

She waves at him, and her steps as she walks down the stairs become more and more distant. She fades away, a shadow disappearing as suddenly as she had come.

He knows it’ll be a long time before he will hear from her again, and maybe it is better that way.

The ghost of her presence will linger, even without her.

_Curse her charisma_ … _That’s so like her_ , Feliks thinks, and this time he knows he’s not wrong.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading so far! I hope you enjoyed this little one-shot.  
> This was super self indulgent and super raw to write at the same time. It's hard to explain... but I tried my best to convey the Mood, and a sense of "overcoming" with this. Let me know your impressions in the comments!


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